Save Yourself
by Fotogenico
Summary: "Matthew didn't know what it was like, to love someone so much you'd save yourself just, and only for them." Based on the song Save Yourself by Sense Field, but not really a songfic. Highschool AU, T for mentions of sex, Canada-centric.


**A/N: I love Matthew. I love Matthew very, very much. (as a character, mind you, I'm not a creeper who literally falls in love with fictional characters. Let's all just keep with the fangirling. And leave it at that.) And writing this has made me sad because I love Matthew he's my little Hetalia babbu (asides from Lovino) but I just had to write this D': I'm sorry Mattie, I promise the next fic I post about you will be a happy one. (which reminds me. I still have a pile of fanfics I've written but never posted in my file. Think I should post them soon? =/ )**

**USUK, sad Canada, highschool AU, mentions of sex but nothing explicit.**

**Song Inspiration; Save Yourself - Sense Field.**

* * *

><p>Lights out, and soft snores were head from the bed above him.<p>

Matthew Williams smiled the smallest of smiles, at the sound of his dearest step-brother sleeping above him, his arm dangling off the side, sometimes moving along with the heroic dreams that the Canadian was sure was running inside Alfred's slumbering mind. The American was tired after a long afternoon of football practice, and he fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Matthew, however, was still wide awake.

Silently counting sheep, his eyes were about to close, and he was about to give himself a mental "goodnight" when he saw his phone light up and buzz. New message.

'_its lars. need u right nw. meet u at d usual place. thx.'_

Matthew re-read the message, once, twice. And then switched his phone off, and got out of bed to go on a blind search for his clothes.

He knew what the text had meant. He was used to it. It came nearly every night anyways. From different people, yes, but the texts always meant the same thing, and they were always at the same time. Matthew didn't even know why he bothered trying to fall asleep during that time either. But he had to be strong; he needed this. Or so he told himself. Finally fully clothed, he put on his glasses, and opened the door a crack, making as little noise as possible. And he took one look back at his sleeping brother, the slip of light from the open door lighting the American's face.

Alfred F. Jones. His step-brother, and older by only a few days. And Matthew was actually very proud of his step-brother. Because although Alfred is a _little_ bit too hyper and a _little_ bit obnoxious, and maybe his diet consisted mainly of burgers and other fast foods, he had good intentions, and he always had a crowd of people around him, because he was so bouncy and friendly and was a complete people-person. Count that with the fact that he was (_obviously_) the captain of the football team, and now you have a good half of the female population in the school at his heels. He was a nice guy, and everyone liked him. (Matthew included; he loved the fact that Al noticed him.)

His good looks attracted even more people. Golden hair that shone in the sunlight, bright blue eyes as breathtaking as the neverending sky. A lovely tan from all those days practicing under the sun, and he worked off all the calories he took everyday with it too, for he was actually quite muscular under his coat. And then, there was his smile, so captivating, so charming, so bouncy and sunshine-y and handsome that it could send a line of girls swooning.

And he had a boyfriend too. The highschool they went to was actually very accepting, and both brothers were grateful, because both were bisexual. And, lucky lucky, Alfred managed to snag a boyfriend. Who happened to be the student body president, or as Francis so often put it, _powerful eyebrows with a person attached to them._ Alfred was chasing Arthur for a good half-year before Arthur finally caved in, and Alfred spent the day whooping and yelling his newest relationship update down the school hall, with Arthur chasing after him and screeching something along the lines of _YOU BLOODY GIT STOP THAT SHUT UP RIGHT NOW OR I'LL CHOKE YOU WITH A SCONE AND I MEAN IT_... or something like that.

And then there was Matthew.

Shy, reserved, background-character Matthew Williams. The guy who everyone could pass on as part of the wall, the guy who no one remembered. He could walk in and out of his classes as he pleased because no one would notice (unless Alfred was there, because Al was one of the people who DID notice, and he tended to be very loud when he asked where Matthew was going) and he was fairly sure he could set the cafeteria on fire and no one would notice it was him even if he stood there with some matches, hairspray and a truckload of burnable objects. (But he wouldn't do it anyway; he was far too polite and nice to.)

No one really noticed him unless Alfred was around to point him out, and even then, people would only recognize him as "Alfred's brother" before forgetting him not more than five minutes later. It was a cycle repeated everyday.

Matthew couldn't even match his brother look-wise. His hair was long and wavy and he had this one stray curl that never seemed to like being put into place. His violet eyes were always hidden behind glasses and were always covered with his curtain of hair whenever he looked down to his feet (which was most of the time.) His skin was stupidly pale, and he was thin and lanky and so, so forgettable. It was painful being forgettable.

So very painful. But he was alone most of the time anyway.

Alone, lost, and unloved.

And that's why he was doing this.

He thought through that as he climbed into his car, started the engine and set off for the place. He arrived there soon enough. 'The place' was actually a cafe-turned-pub. During the daytime, it was a small cafe just around the corner from their school, with decent food and decent drinks at decent prices, and both students and teachers alike usually came around to just eat and hang out before and/or after school or they were having lunch break or something. But at night, usually after nine, it turned into a cheap pub, with just an average amount of people having drinks and talking.

Matthew was a regular there, but of course, no one would notice anyway. And so he parked his car by the side of the road, locked it, and headed for the back.

And there he was. A very tall man, with spikey hair and a striped scarf and a cigarette between his teeth and a scar above his brow. Lars. Matthew made his way over, and Lars smiled, spat the cigarette away, and pushed Matthew to the wall, and started to kiss him all over, whispering his name again and again. Matthew sighed and shuddered at the feeling of lips on his neck, clumsy, drunken fingers stumbling all over his body. Yes. Yes, he _needed this so bad._

Because he wasn't like his brother. His brother, who had a loving boyfriend. A hairy-browed, constantly grumpy, tea-obsessed and probably hallucinating, loving boyfriend, but a loving boyfriend nontheless. His brother, who was so in love with Arthur, and vice versa, and Matthew had gotten the feeling that their relationship wasn't one that was going to end soon. (Or ever.) No. Matthew was Matthew, poor unloved, ignorable Matthew...

Unless he was being screwed.

That was the only thing that he was recognized for. Though it wasn't a big thing amongst the students, who didn't even remember who this 'Matthew' person was anyway, it seemed that whenever someone wanted a good, temporary lay, the first thing that would come to mind would be Matthew Williams, and they'd somehow have his number on their phone (they forgot they'd ever entered it in) and send him a text and Matthew would be there. Because Matthew didn't mind, didn't mind that his picture is only in their minds for the wrong reasons, even if they have his number on their phones to dispose of anytime they wished.

Because this was the only way Matthew felt wanted, needed, loved, and even if it were just a one-time thing, he wouldn't mind. Even if the other person was moaning another's name, it was okay, because Matthew felt useful and needed for once, _for once_, in his life, being screwed against the wall at the back of a pub like a cheap whore.

And then it was all over, and Lars shooed Matthew away, and Matthew would walk away without a second thought, not even caring about his limp, and he'd start the car and drive home. And he'd go to sleep, a dreamless sleep, and wake up hours later with an aching back, bruised arms from being pushed against the wall, a scratched chest and a very, very slight limp that no one would ever notice.

He watched as they arrived at school and immediately he became one with the background, and watched as Alfred ran up to Arthur and picked him up and hugged him and spun him around despite the other's obviously half-hearted protests. And Matthew wondered what it was like, to love someone so much... He wondered.

It was lunchtime now, and they were at the cafe that was just around the corner from their school. The same place Matthew had just been done over and over again, against the wall, right behind it. Funny. Alfred was munching happily on his burgers; Matthew was slowly putting pieces of his into his mouth, not appreciating the flavour as much as his step-brother did. He heard his brother swallow, and take a deep breath, and when Matthew looked up, Alfred's face had a blush on it. Matthew put down his fork and knife. Alfred had something important to announce, and Matthew knew it, because they were bros and obviously bros couldn't keep things from each other. (Matthew knew he'd broken the rules many-a-time, but what Alfred didn't know wouldn't hurt him.)

"S-So anyway... I've been thinking about it with Arthur and... I think... I think..." Alfred stumbled over his words, before sheepishly smiling dorkily. "...I think tonight may be _the night._"

Matthew's eyes widened. "Oh really?" he asked.

"Yeah... A-At his place, cause his brothers are on a trip to Scotland for the week and his parents are on a business trip for a day or two and... yeah." Alfred continued. "I'm just so... I dunno, excited, nervous, I don't know and it kinda just feels like I wanna puke. Rainbows. I mean, it's my first time, and his too, and stuff..."

Matthew raised his brows. "You're a virgin, Al?"

Alfred laughed. "Duh! I'm a hero and... and even though I know heroes can get all the chicks, I've been kinda saving it for someone I really, really love... Don't judge me Matt! I'm being romantic here!"

"Congratulations, then. Remember to trim your nails before you go." Matthew smiled.

"Trim my... why?" Alfred questioned. Matthew shook his head.

"Trust me. Just do it to avoid a mid-sex hissy fit." Alfred looked at him weird, but laughed it off and finished his third burger.

Secretly, Matthew was wondering. How did Alfred do it? The thought lingered in his mind throughout the rest of the day. How could Alfred, the guy who all the ladies squealed over, save himself so specially for someone? While Matthew just gave it away to whoever wanted it (he didn't even remember who he gave his first away to...)

Matthew lay on his bed that night, missing the soft snores from his brother, but didn't really mind. Because he knew that right this moment, his brother was having a night to remember, with a man he really, truly loved with all of his heart (and Matthew amusedly decided that he should ask Alfred for thanks, because he figured that about now, his advice about nail-trimming would come in handy).

Matthew didn't know whether the feeling was jealousy or not. His brother, giving his first to the man he loved, while Matthew slept around whoever. Matthew didn't know what it was like, to love someone so much you'd save yourself just, and only for them. Matthew didn't know the feeling, because he'd long given up trying to figure out what love was like. The closest he'd ever gotten to love was the banging, every night.

Because some man would hold him close, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and for a moment, and just for a moment, he'd feel loved, found, important, needed, and all those wonderful feeling things. And when it was all over, he'd just be thrown right back into the cage of invisibility, cursed to stay there until someone decided that he was horny and needed someone to satisfy him, and then, and only then, was Matthew allowed to silently trod out of his cage and allowed himself to feel loved, if only for a moment.

Matthew had long since given up trying to find hope in love. Matthew had always felt so alone, and though once upon a time he had wished someone would look past his barrier and reach out to him, reality had let him down, and he'd stayed down. And his self-esteem went low, so very, very low, so dangerously low, that the only way he could keep himself from things such as suicide was his brother, and the things he did almost everynight. (He didn't even cut; he was too afraid people would be too disgusted with him to text him again, so he didn't ruin his figure by cutting or anything like it.)

Matthew kept wondering, over and over, what was it like? To be loved? To be appreciated, to be acknowledged, as an individual, instead of just a quick and easy lay. To be wanted, to be hugged and held tight each night, just because of love, and not because of the exhaustion that came after sex. He wondered what it was like, to be able to give your virginity to someone you really cared for, someone you really loved, instead of giving it to a random stranger who couldn't even remember your name an hour later.

And somewhere deep inside him, he still regretted, he still wished he could've saved himself too. Wished that he did what Alfred and Arthur did, and waited for someone to love him too. Somewhere inside him, he wished he could've spent his first time on a soft bed in either one's homes, and not behind a pub by a decaying pile of rubbish. He wished he could've been held and touched and whispered to and handled as if he were the most fragile and precious thing in this mortal world, he wished he could've been told _I love you_ before going to sleep in his lover's arms.

He wished he could've found someone who would've _held me kissed me loved me for me knew and cherished my name and knew, and knew that I'm there_, but he'd been so forgotten he'd long since left that hope buried deep into the back of his mind, along with the other wishes he'd made so long ago. All just the dust and remains of abandoned memories, all buried and hidden away.

He didn't even know he'd begun to cry until he heard his phone buzz and when he took his phone all he could see was a blur. He blinked and wiped away the tears, surprised at himself, and looked at his phone again. Two new messages.

One from Al. '_thx bro, ur advice helped me tons! how'd u knw abt the nail trim thingy anyway? lol! keeping smthing from ur bro? not cool man! anyway, gtg, Artie wants to sleep and i wanna hold him when he falls asleep and all that other sappy romantic stuff im so awesome for doing. nite bro!'_

Matthew smiled, and he mentally sent him a congratulations. And then he looked at his second message.

Matthew re-read the message, once, twice. And then switched his phone off, and got out of bed to go on a blind search for his clothes.


End file.
